Morning After
by honorable Dissenter
Summary: Ed wakes up next to the person he loves to hate, not remembering why or how he got there.  Neither can he.  As if his life wasn't complicated enough.  Yaoi.
1. Morning After

Morning After

_honorable Dissenter_

Chapter One-Morning After

Ed woke up with his head on someone's chest. It wasn't that strange, after all, Al climbed into his bed when he had nightmares about their mother, nightmares that Ed had himself, though he had learned to cry silently, so as not to wake Alphonse. But he preferred to be left alone while he slept. Sharing a bed with his brother did get kind of annoying.

Ed meant to tell Al to get off his bed and stop being a big baby, but when he tried to open his eyes his mind went blank with pain. He had a roaring headache. He grimaced through it, and forced himself to open his eyes. It took a few minutes to try and focus.

He watched something shiny swim into focus, the sun glinting off of the intricate lines. He watched, fascinated, as the metal contraption finally became recognizable as an arm. His arm. That was right, his arm was automail now. Winry made it for him. His arm was automail because that night, they tried to bring her back, and his arm and leg, and Al...

Ed wasn't sure what he wanted to say as his befuddled brain raced and came to a halt simultaneously, but that didn't matter. It came out as a hoarse croak that caused the person he was sharing the bed with to stir and groan tiredly.

Ed sat up with a start, pain lancing his brain, and turned to see a man who was definitely not his brother staring back at him incredulously with the same look he probably wore. Colonel Roy Mustang sat up, the covers not covering his bare chest.

Ed looked around him, and noted Mustang doing the same. He had no idea where he was. Mustang didn't seem to be sharing that difficulty. He looked around, bemused at his surroundings.

This had to be some mistake. A nightmare, he thought. No, he would never have dreamed up this, not even in the darkest places he kept locked up in his mind. Those were reserved for his guilt, his pain...it had nothing to do with the colonel.

Mind whirling, he stumbled back to the edge of he bed, getting _away_. Anywhere else was better than here. Shedding the cover of the blanket, Ed realized sickeningly that the shirt he was wearing wasn't his own. It was much too large for him, practically covering his boxers...

He looked in silent horror back at the colonel. He looked to be rather the worse for wear, too. He scratched his head unconsciously, looking as shocked as Ed felt. Ed saw, to his comparative relief, that Mustang was wearing sweatpants.

His mind latched on to this fact, insisting that it was a good sign, if there could be anything good about this situation. Besides that, his brain refused to accept anything else it was being fed. Numbness was better than terror now. He could think through numbness, at least more so than he could if he simply accepted what his damn eyes were telling him.

The one thing his brain did accept from what his senses were telling it was that he had to get the hell away from here. The farther away, the better.

Ed spotted his clothes in a neatly folded pile on the floor. He grabbed them and ran.

Directly outside the room was a hallway, in which he awkwardly hopped into his pants. That led to a huge living room, huge windows to match looking out toward the road. He flung the oversized shirt over his shoulder and yanked his own shirt back over his head. Beside the farther window was the front door, where Ed's coat was hung, his boots on the floor beneath it. His coat hung beside a long black one, his boots beside another, larger pair. He tried not to think about who they belonged to.

He ran out the front door, not even bothering to slam it shut behind him. He glanced back over his shoulder. This had to be the colonel's house. Where else could it be?

Ed had been told about the colonel's house. He'd probably had it pointed out to him before, but he'd never really paid attention to any particulars about it, especially not the location. The Flame Alchemist was the last person Ed would ever consider visiting; it rarely occurred to him to visit people he actually liked.

Ed ran down the street, not something he was unaccustomed to. Central was so damn big, he didn't know where he was. So he ran, not knowing where he ran to, or even where he wanted to go. He knew where he wasn't going. Military Headquarters, the home of anyone he knew, his hotel room. He couldn't face being with anyone he knew, especially not from the military, but he couldn't stand being alone, either, he thought.

He hadn't been paying attention to where he was going, and was now into a more business-oriented part of town. Stores and restaurants lined the street. He stopped running. He was tired, he was out of breath, and ha had a raging headache. He stopped at a small café, and dropped down into a chair gratefully and ordered a coffee.

Luckily, his coffee was served quickly. It gave him something else to think about. His mind went involuntarily over the crap that his senses were force-feeding it. He woke up next to someone he despised. He couldn't remember how that had happened, so he discarded it for now. He couldn't remember why his head hurt so bad, either, but that's what the coffee was going to fix for him. He wanted to focus on the problem that had a solution. He wanted to not have had whatever had happened happen. He wanted to know what had happened. He didn't want to know what had happened. He really wanted to be somebody else right now.

But the coffee was good, and one problem was being solved. He figured he could only handle one problem at a time, so he sat back and let his mind go blank. Surprisingly soon, he discovered that the thoughts he was trying to block were popping into his brain less often, and after a little while he watched the movement of people on the boulevard without any unwanted thoughts interrupting him. He found himself almost enjoying watching shoppers and vendors go about their daily lives. It all just seemed so normal, so natural.

Once, a pair of soldiers passed, but neither was anyone Ed knew.

Slowly, Ed began to recognize his surroundings. That was the automail shop he had went to with Winry. And there, that was the pet shop. Al loved those dang kitties. Ed could have laughed. He was pretty sure he smiled. It was all just too much, really.

He looked around again, trying to remember where his hotel was. It should be, he looked down the street, that way. He would walk back to the hotel, a relatively short walk, especially compared to the run he'd just had. He'd walk in the front door. There would be cheerful people having normal days. No one would ask him any questions. He'd go to his room, be alone.

Ed sat there, drinking his coffee, feeling the warmth of the cup in his hands. It was a normal, comforting sort of feeling. He definitely needed something normal right now, even more than he needed something comforting. So he drank his coffee, and watched the people going about their daily lives.


	2. Night Before

Morning After

_honorable Dissenter_

Chapter Two-Night Before

By the time Ed got home to the apartment he was currently staying at, his headache had subsided. But he was dead tired. Mentally, at least. Physically, the caffeine was making its presence known. He glanced toward the bedroom but decided that he preferred the couch today. He'd had enough...he'd had enough of...well, _beds_ for one day. He cringed involuntarily. He hadn't thought of that since that little coffee break, but now that it had accidentally been called forth into his consciousness, it was blazingly clear in his mind. He flopped down on the couch, letting his mind blank out as it had before.

It was amazing how calm one could be when one simply stopped thinking. Fortunately for him, the life of a state alchemist, or work, rather, was sporadic, at best. Last week he was filling out some useless report. Now he was in Central, with nothing to do, until he could hand that report in and leave, probably with another assignment to stake out the far reaches of nowhere-land. It paid the bills. And granted him access to the most promising leads to finding a way to restore his and Al's bodies. Al...

Where was Al? They had stopped at Resembool on their way to Central, he remembered. Aunt Pinako had taken sick, (nothing serious, she insisted,) and Winry had been taking care of her. Then Winry got sick, too. That was right, Al had stayed there to take care of them. He was the logical choice, of course. He didn't need to sleep anymore, and Ed had a report to hand in. Al probably couldn't hand it in for Ed, and anyways, that would be impractical. So Al had stayed with the invalids, Ed promising a speedy return.

But why had it been so important that he get to Central on time? He handed in late reports all the time. But there had been something...he remembered suddenly. Hawkeye's wedding. She was getting married to some civilian goon (Ed hadn't really met him) and they had had their wedding last night. At least he thought he was a civilian. Ed could barely remember. Ed blanked his mind again.

He tried to go to sleep. When that didn't work, he cleaned. It was the only thing he could think to do. He didn't have anyone to spar with, he couldn't cook, and there was no way in hell he was going back outside today. He did every chore he could think of, looked over his report that he hadn't had time to hand in yet, and even wrote a letter to Al. It might arrive before he did, it might not. He didn't care. By the time he was finished he was genuinely tired, and curled up on the couch again, content.

By the next day he had almost convinced himself that things were back to normal. He had woken up in his hotel room, on the couch, (nevermind the dream that he chose not to remember, it was nothing to do with _that_,) and he felt okay. He was going to go about this day at Central like he would any other day that he was spending in this city on business. Yes, business. That's what he was here for.

He debated on whether he really needed to change his clothes, didn't-remember the circumstances in which he had put on the clothes, and changed as fast as the part of his mind that insisted it was a normal day would allow. He was going to be a mature adult, handing in his homework.

Feeling relatively normal, much relieved that he _looked _normal, at least, he took a deep breath and started out again toward Central Headquarters. Doing his nifty little mind-blanking exercise got him to the front of the building, through the doors, and to the colonel's office. By that time he was determined that it was going to be just like any other day where he handed in a report. If he acted normal, it would be normal, right?

That lasted until the moment he opened the door and saw the colonel again, for the first time since the other day. The memory of waking up next to him, which he had purposefully locked out of his mind, came rushing back to him. He could feel himself start to blush in anger and embarrassment. Damn it. Of course it wasn't going to be like nothing happened. He wanted to turn around and bolt, but the colonel had already seen him. He walked over to the couch and sat silently, grateful that Maes Hughes was in the room as well, so he wouldn't be alone with the colonel and he'd have time to try and organize his thoughts.

The first panicky thoughts reminded him that his visits to drop off reports generally included him having to wait around in Mustang's office for an interminable amount of time while the man went through any and every other paper before getting to his. Having to stay in the room with Mustang...he couldn't do it. He'd run out of the room screaming after five minutes. He felt himself starting to hyperventilate.

_Stop it_, he ordered himself. He was not going to let someone else-especially someone he hated-have this kind of control over him. Never. Damn it, no one was going to make a fool of him, and he'd be damned if he was going to make a fool out of himself. He started to calm down, his resolution winning out.

He had the presence of mind to tune into Hughes and Mustang's conversation just as Maes was turning to leave. "Need anything else, Roy?" he asked. "Coffee?"

"Thanks, Hughes," Roy responded, rubbing his temples. He didn't look much different from usual, but he seemed...tired. Haggard, was Ed's first thought, but anyone looking at him who didn't know him probably wouldn't even realize there was something amiss.

"What about you, Ed?" Hughes asked, addressing the boy for the first time.

Ed didn't think it was possible to feel more wired than he did already. "No thanks." Hughes looked at him for a moment, like there was something strange about him that he couldn't quite put his finger on. Ed noticed, and another surge of adrenaline hit him. Acting natural didn't seem to be working.

Roy's hand raked through his messy hair as he went over whatever paper was in front of him. The part Ed had been dreading, worse than actually handing in the report, had begun.

The silence stretched on, Ed sitting on the couch, shifting his weight and trying to distract himself. He looked around, trying to find something else to focus on. His anxiety increased. Why were military offices so _boring_? He was going to drive himself mad. The most interesting thing in the room beside himself was the colonel, whom he was determined to ignore.

Finally, feeling like his head was going to explode from the tension he asked, "Doesn't Hawkeye usually get you coffee?"

Mustang looked up like he had forgotten Ed was there. Then he went back to focusing on the work in front of him. "She's on sabbatical for her honeymoon," he replied, his voice expressionless.

Of course. Ed felt like an idiot. He discarded any thought of further conversation. After a moment, Mustang looked back up at him again. "What have you got there?"

Ed looked blankly down at the folder he held in his hand. "Just my usual report," he answered. Mustang held his hand out for it. Ed reluctantly slid off the couch and handed it to the man, careful to hold it at the opposite end. Roy put it down on top of the other papers that were spread on his desk, and started to-honest to God-read through it. This breach of protocol made Ed even more nervous, and now he had to stand there and wait next to the colonel's desk. He almost jumped when the colonel spoke again.

"Everything seems to be in order," he said after a minute, in the same tone he had used before. He flipped to the last page and signed his name.

"Then I can leave?" Ed asked hopefully.

Mustang frowned almost imperceptively. "No. This needs to be signed by Lieutenant Hawkeye as well."

Panic hit him again. "When is she going to be back?"

"In a few days. She doesn't like to leave headquarters for very long. Even if it's her honeymoon."

Ed felt like jumping up and down, pulling out his hair. "Isn't there someway you can just accept it without her approval?" he insisted.

"I could," the colonel said, "but it would mean more paperwork for me."

Ed felt the flush on his face again, but this time it was from anger. Without another word he turned and stomped out of the office, and out into the streets he secretly loved to get lost in. He stopped as he reached an unfamiliar part of the town. He closed his eyes, leaning his back against the shadowy side of a building. All the anger that had built up in him drained away, leaving only exhaustion. He slumped down against the wall with a long, weary sigh.

He felt his eyes watering. Appalled, he pressed his hands up over his face.

He didn't cry over things as insignificant as having to wait for his report to be approved. It wasn't something that he did. Maybe other people, but not Edward Elric. He was stronger than that. So why couldn't he stop the tears?

He stayed there for a few minutes, as long as it took for him to calm down his breathing and be sure his face didn't give him away.

He started walking back in the direction he thought his hotel building was in. The panicky voice in the back of his mind was warning him that a few more days in Central equaled a few more days to pretend nothing had happened, equaled a few more days when his mind might think of something he really didn't want to mull over.

Like why he woke up where he did.

_Stop right there_, he ordered his thoughts. He was not going to go over that again. His mind wouldn't shut up, so he reached a compromise. He hadn't thought about the events leading up to that point yet. He started at the beginning.

Hawkeye's wedding. What did he remember about it? He went alone. The second lieutenant had married some guy he'd never met. He'd heard he was a civilian. Ed had wondered what kind of civilian could possibly hold any interest for Hawkeye. He had to at least have a gun collection, or something. Even at the wedding, Ed hadn't really met him. Strange, he'd always thought that Mustang and Hawkeye would end up together. The loyalty and trust they had in each other-was that really just friendship?

Ed let his mind drift back to the colonel momentarily. He'd looked pretty down at the wedding. Much like he had today. He hadn't come with anyone, either. For the most part, he'd stayed in his seat, not really celebrating with the rest of the guests. Ed had changed his opinion then. Even if Hawkeye had ended up with someone else, he was certain that the colonel loved her.

He was getting off topic. What had happened then? Well, he also hadn't felt much like celebrating. He'd sat at a table near the colonel's, and he could see the man from where he sat. He had stayed at his table, choosing not to mingle. He'd been drinking, he remembered. He couldn't remember what. But that wasn't like him. Why had he started drinking? Well, because-he tried to stop the thought-the colonel had been drinking.

He paused, bewildered at the thought. But he couldn't refute it. He knew it was true. He had only begun drinking after he saw that Mustang was drinking.

He continued walking, realizing that he had stopped moving. He crossed the last intersection before he arrived back at the hotel. He'd started drinking...he couldn't remember what had happened after that. Well, that's where the problem started, now wasn't it?

He sighed, turning the key in the latch. He hadn't been in the apartment room for two minutes when the phone rang. It was a transfer from Resembool.

"_Hello, Brother. How's everything in Central?_"

"You know. Same old, same old." He tried to sound lighthearted. "How's it going there?"

"_Winry and Pinako are still sick_," Al informed him. "_But other than that, everything's about the same as normal._"

"You still okay?"

"_You know I can't get sick, Brother._" Al's tone turned solicitous. "_Are you okay, Brother?_"

"I'm fine," Ed lied.

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That took much longer to post than I thought it would. My apologies. But I hope you will forgive me and continue to read and review. This is the first time I've written a serious yaoi fanfic, and all of your input is greatly appreciated. I just hope I can do the story (and characters) justice.


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